


Gifts From A Small Island

by MsJackofAllFandoms



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen, Humour, Pineapple in paperweight form, Rated for swearing, Season 1 era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms
Summary: It’s on his desk when he gets in first thing of the morning. Just, sitting there, in it’s complete cut glass existence.“What the hell?” He asks out loud. Because, seriously, what the hell? Where did it come from!?





	Gifts From A Small Island

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not beta read, so please point out if there's any mistakes. This is also my first fic for this fandom and I'm stuck watching the episodes out of order so this possibly clashes with information we get from the show.
> 
> The idea for this fic came from when I was in my local shopping centre and there was a cut glass/crystal stall. And I saw something that made me think of Danny, and the story went from there.

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/158272996@N05/24808742508/in/dateposted-public/)

It’s on his desk when he gets in first thing of the morning. Just, sitting there, in it’s complete cut glass existence.

“What the hell?” He asks out loud. Because, seriously, what the hell? Where did it come from!?

He walks closer to it, slowly, not completely sure it’s not a bomb. He looks for any sign that Steve’s the culprit somehow, maybe an overnight escapade combined with some Navy Seal stealth. But Steve’s in his office, and Steve drove them both in just minutes ago and there was nothing out of the ordinary to suggest Steve had been up to no good since he last saw him the night before. Besides, he might have been a Navy Seal, but was he that ridiculous to use his skills just to get under his skin? On a random Tuesday morning?

He ignores the tiny little voice inside his head which says yes. It sounds like Kono.

A paper card dangles from the neck by a pink and yellow striped ribbon looped through a punch hole in the card. He looks around for any guilty faces glancing at him, but still nothing. It still could be a bomb. He doesn’t want Steve to laugh at him for mistaking what is probably a perfectly harmless paperweight for a bomb, though, so he does what any self respecting Jersey detective would do. He picks up the pair of tweezes from the desk tidy – It’s not the first suspicious package he’s had on his desk, okay? It’s why they set up protocols for this sort of thing! – and he carefully, slowly leans over to it and takes hold of the card with the tweezers. Leaning his face even closer, he slowly brings the card as close to his face as possible without it pulling on the ribbon tied around the sparkly abomination’s neck. Before reading, he twists his neck to cautiously look around the room, this time to make sure nobody was being a witness his over-cautious antics and was glad this time to see, still, nobody standing there, guilty face or otherwise.

What he reads on the card makes him drop the card down on the desk along with the tweezers with more force than perhaps necessary.

“Seriously!?” He shouts, “You get a sense of humour transplant with the new husband!? Sonofabitch”.

He doesn’t move the offending object from his desk, though, he just glares angrily at it for a few minutes. Steve comes to stand at his office door.

“You okay, man? I heard you shouti- Hey, what’s with the pineapple?”

Danny goes from glaring at the aforementioned pineapple and glares at Steve instead. Steve meets his glare with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s with the Pineapple, he asks! I’ll tell you what’s with the godforsaken cut glass fake crystal paperweight of a _pineapple_ ” his anger makes him practically spit the last word out, “Steve; My ex-wife is currently in Liverpool, England, went to a market there and came across this… this…” he struggles to find a new way to describe the offending item offensively taking up precious space on his desk.

Steve fills in for him. “Pineapple?”

Danny glares at him some more and throws his arms up. “Yes. Very good. This _Pineapple._ The national fruit of this hellhole island, in cut glass form. It’s almost what I never ever wanted. Look, there’s even a card.” He holds the golden tinted glass leaves that make up the crown of the paperweight with one hand and non-too gently tugs the card off the ribbon, leaving the extra offensive ribbon in place. He reads what is written on it out loud.

_‘Danny, I went to that market in Liverpool._   
_Saw this and thought of you and just had to fedex it to you right away._   
_Rachel.’_

Imagine that, huh! All the way to England, and in between family time and Stan’s meetings, she finds time to send me a _pineapple_ she saw in a market in Liverpool, a place not well known for good weather, Steven!”

Steve starts fighting against smiling, Danny can tell, but it cracks through anyway and Danny is resigned to the mirth. “Your ex-wife’s a funny woman, Danno.” Steve eventually manages.

Stuck between outrage still at the cut glass paperweight on his desk being fedex’d to him as a form of a joke, and now Steve using that nickname, there are too many words that want to come out at once and Danny just swallows them down and increases his glare. They stand looking at each other in something like a stand off before it hits Danny again, and his anger dissipates somewhat. “I don’t even know how she got it in here! We don’t accept packages direct to us, not after last time. It could have been a bomb!”

Steve’s face does a funny thing Danny has never seen it do before, before it settles into something that could have passed for confusion, if Danny didn’t know Steve well enough. “That’s a good question, Danny. I’ll look into it for you.” And Steve turns around to leave.

“Did you have something to do with this!?” He asks, shouting, pointing at _it_ , which makes him go back to his original question of the day. “What the hell!?”

Steve shrugs his shoulders, “No, not me man, but, er, I’ll ask around.”

“Oh you’ll ask around, will you!?” He repeats, but Steve has already left for the safety of his own office. He makes noises at the other man’s retreat and waves at the doorway  dismissively. Also maybe to the damned cut glass pineapple too, with it’s golden tinted leaves.

He screws up the card and shoots for the trashcan. He smiles as it goes in right at the centre, then spots the cut glass monstrosity out of the corner of his eye as he turns back around.

His smile drops, feelings of victory short lived, vanish, and he pulls his chair roughly out from under the desk. He sits down heavily, muttering to himself about the negative sides of a new found sense of humour and waits for his workfiles on his computer to load. 

 


End file.
